And Rain Shall Fall
by River Child
Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester had battled and seen the unnatural. However, when an angel, who was ordered by the Almighty, charges them with a holy mission, things get more unnatural. Chapter Two is now up. Warning: Eventual Wincest
1. Word From On High

Hi everyone, I want just to let you know that this is my first Supernatural fic, Dogma fic and crossover fic. This is a Supernatural/Dogma crossover. Also, characters from other movies and/or other TV series may make a guest appearance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or the drop-dead gorgeous Winchester boys nor any of the characters from the immortal genius that is Kevin Smith. If I did, then I wouldn't be writing a fanfic and be living on the French Riviera. And this would actually be a movie or something. Sadly, I don't, but I do own my OOCs, Alexandra, Cressida, Zahrah, and Samael (well, actually he belongs to religious tales).

December 1, 2006. 3:16 p.m.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Love Park:

"And remember Father, don't let nothing hold you back!"

With that the Father O'Toole of Our Lady of Lourdes Church (1), nodded his silver-lined black head vigorously and delight and sense of freedom danced in his once-weary blue eyes, and ran like a bat out of hell out of Love Park, not glancing back at the golden-haired that was now hunched over, laughing so hard he was on the verge of tears.

Soon he heard the sounds of tsking by a very familiar and British voice, but he paid no mind but continued to revel and laugh at his accomplishment.

"For shame, Loki, for shame. I thought you were done with fooling with doubting clergy members once you were forgiven. And I'm surprised after all those years of being expulsed from Heaven, Bartleby did not resort to manslaughter."

Loki's laughter slowly died down to a couple of loud snorts and straightened himself up and turned around to face a sour-looking older man with sallow and pale skin and slightly untidy hair dressed with black jeans with a matching hoodie with a maroon suit jacket thrown over it. Loki grinned at the older male. "Ah, come on Metatron. Ya know how much I love fuckin' with the clergy and hate fuckin' _Chronicles of Narnia_. Plus, the guy professed that he wanted to break his vows and had enough pedophilic thoughts to make Michael Jackson look like the Dali Llama."

Metatron rolled his eyes. "Loki, I never understand why you have such a tizzy with that book series. And I thought it was clear to everyone in Heaven knew the kid was lying about what occurred at Neverland Ranch, but I guess exceptions were made."

Loki gave the older male an incredulous look. "Oh come on! I was joking! Jeez, you're like Bartleby!"

Metatron rolled his eyes again and turned around to walk over to the same bench that Loki and his religious acquaintance sat and took a seat upon. Loki followed suit. "So…" the blond man began. "Why did you want to meet here? I mean fuckin' Philly of all places, the fuckin' ancient cabbage-between-the-teeth city, why didn't you choose New York or Boston at least?"

Metatron shot Loki a scolding look. "And what? Make it look like some horrid Tim Allen movie or another Sunday holiday Hallmark movie that Bartleby oddly loves? Thanks, but no thanks; I prefer scenery that is not cliché. Anyway, where is your more emo and snotty companion?"

Loki glanced at the older angel's expectant look and looked away and shrugged. "I dunno, probably looking through magazines, looking when the next Tim Allen or Lindsey Lohan teenie-bopper movie is coming out."

A half-smile cracked around the corners of the brunet's face before it quickly disappeared and was replaced with a more stoic expression. "You do know about what feast day is coming up, right?"

Loki threw the older male a confused look. "No, not really. You know I don't really give a crap about Catholic holidays."

Metatron narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, now you should. The Feast Day of the Innocents is coming up. It's on Dec. 28th."

Loki's face even scrunched up more with confusion. "And what this got to do with Bartleby and me?"

Metatron's eye begun to twitch and he felt the strong urge to slap Loki if his sense of propriety did not prevail. Instead he continued, irritation strong in his voice. "This got to do with the two of you, Bethany, her child–"

Concern lit up in Loki's eyes. "Why? Is something going to happen to her and her kid?'

"Yes," Metatron was now talking through his teeth. "Word is in Hell that Bethany's child's powers is budding and she is slowly developing into what her ancestor was, that's bad news for Lucifer. And that is just the extent of our worries, not only that word is also going around about the next Thirteen Apostles and now Lucifer sent Azrael and his top two demons to exterminate Alexandra–"

"Alexandra? Who's Alexandra?"

Metatron slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed in exasperation. "Bethany's child, you brainless Ren-and-Stimpy-watching tool!"

"Hey, forget you. Ren and Stimpy is a cult classic."

"For potheads, coprophiliacs and metal hospital patients alike. Now can I continue without you interrupting me? Yes? Thank you. As I was saying, Lucifer sent Azrael and his two top demons to exterminate Alexandra and the future Thirteen Apostles before the Feast Day of the Innocents."

"Why before that day?"

"Because on that day, no demon or no creature of evil cannot kill a child on that day as each child is protected by a seal that God placed after the thousands of innocent children that were murdered under the command of King Herod, as if a demon does kill a child, then by universal law, they will be blanked out of existence and the children will be declared as martyrs and can be reincarnated."

"Oh."

Metatron took that as encouragement to continue before Loki might open his mouth again to interrupt or say something stupid. "Anyway, God wants ALL of us–You, me, Bartleby, the two stoners, Bethany, her daughter, the Apostle, and the Muse– to go to all places each Apostle resides and warn them of the danger they are in and have them sent to New Jersey to that church where Alexandra was conceived. Before you ask, it's because that church already is guaranteed as a refuge for Alexandra, so it will also provide as a refuge for the Apostles as well."

"Alright, got it." Loki sniffed again and readjusted his jeans. He shot a look at Metatron. "Anymore you gotta say?"

"Yes, I actually do. We also have extra company coming along with us."

A blond eyebrow shot up. "Really? Who?"

"Cressida, and her companion, and the Winchester Brothers–"

Loki's eyes widened and his mouth became the shape of a large 'O'. "Shit! You mean _the_ Winchester Brothers? And Cressida? Shit, I haven't seen her since the Ten Plagues and—

!"

"Yeah, I know, she been keeping a low profile, but we'll join up with her very soon. Oh, and Loki? Before we get started on the quest, you, Bartleby and I have to take care some business in a state you may not be happy with."

Loki rolled his eyes. "As long as it's not West Virginia. I think that is a serious backwards state, their frickin' age of consent is ten years old!"

"No, it's not West Virgina, it's actually Utah."

"I just had to open my big mouth. Now I have to deal with Mormons."

------------------

Pulkville, Indiana:

Dean almost forgot to shut the door to the Impala as he quickly walked out of the vehicle. But he did not care, as his whole body was screaming with ache and his left eye was plastered with a nice black shiner, results from going toe-to-toe with a kappa (honestly, how the fuck a Japanese water demon ended up terrorizing the town's local swimming pool/lake, was beyond him, but hey you can't question the supernatural). The kappa put up much a fight, flinging him and Sammy up and down and all about, breaking their weapons in half and was about to suck their innards through their anuses (a lovely fact Sam discovered from the courtesy of Wikipedia). That is until Sam remembered the 'small' detail that in order to defeat a kappa, you had to fucking bow, because the source of its energy was the water that filled the top its head and it just so happen that the kappa was a demon with manners and will return the bow and forgot that was a big no-no. And to see the water spill from its head was just fucking gross.

When he sauntered into the lobby, the manager, a middle-aged that had brown hair caked with icy gray and a couple of laugh-lines only glanced at him, distrust obvious in his eyes even as he politely said "What can I get for ya, boy?"

"You got a room with two queens?"

"Yeah, just the last one. You have someone with ya?'

'Is it any of your fuckin' business, Pops'? Dean thought with a false and polite smile and answered. "Yeah, just me and my baby brother."

The man's eyes narrowed either in disgust, contemplating whether or not Dean was telling the truth, or in confusion before he turned around and grabbed a key and threw it to Dean. "Room 27."

Dean rolled his eyes before he walked out of the check-in. Of course it was the last one, it always was. When he returned to the car, he was not surprised to find Sam still resting, yet his forehead and nose was wrinkled and his face set in a frown as though he smelt something awful. Clearly, Dean's little brother was having another nightmare.

Dean sighed inwardly as his reached through the opened window o the passenger side to shake Sam lightly, trying to lull him out of his sleep. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Sleeping Beauty."

Sam frowned more, which was a sign he was awake. He slowly opened his eyes and when Dean was still shaking him, he looked at his older brother with curiosity and annoyance as he asked, "Umm, Dean, can you, oh, I don't know–stop?"

Dean did stop, however, to Sam's great misfortune, his annoying and teasing smirk settled in on his features. "Sorry, bro', I can't help it. I love getting your panties in a twist. Anyways," Dean clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "Our room is one at the end, so would you be a dear and darling little sister and get our stuff? I'll head to the room, thanks." And Dean was off.

Sam almost split his bottom lip when his teeth sank into it to prevent the cluster of words that were threatening to escape from his mouth. Oh, Dean could make little snide comments and try to a smartass, but, _nooo_, when it came to talking and emotions in the same sentence, Dean practically ward it off like an amulet would do against evil spirits. Still, Sam gathered at least three bags from the car trunk, one that held all of his and Dean's clean clothes, one full of cleaning necessities and dirty clothes, and one with all their weapons, before he limped his way to the room. Sam inwardly cursed himself for being so forgetful on using the tidbit to defeat the kappa and could have save himself a walloping that was going to leave him sore for days. His muscles yearned for a nice long hot shower before crashing unto bed that he hoped would be free of lumps.

However, someone up there did not like Sam very much, as once he entered the hotel room and shut and locked the door. He glanced around the room and groaned loudly. He noticed Dean's clothes formed a small mountain juxtaposing the bathroom door, that so happened to be locked, clearing showing that Dean was determined to have first dibs on the shower. Sam reminded himself to make sure buy that pink paint that called his name earlier, when he and Dean were gliding through a store that was twenty miles from the hotel. He'd make sure to buy that obnoxious and girly paint and dump it all over the Impala and scatter glitter all over it. Just to remind Dean that he was brains of the outfit and should be allowed some certain privileges.

Sam threw himself on the bed that reside on the right and thanked the heavens for being merciful, and giving him a bed that was not concealing springs and lumps that threatened to stab and irritate the back. He sank further in the comfort the mattress offered him and closed his eyes, close to sleep's embrace. Sam also made a note to himself to pray to God and thank him for such small blessings.

"Actually, you should be praying to God all the time, but at least you're thankful for the small things in life. I guess." a masculine, baritone, and unfamiliar voice admonished.

The voice also had a trace of Australia in it and sounded very close to Sam and caused his eyes to quickly snap open. Dammit, of all the times he forgot to salt and demon-proof the room, it had to be now.

Sam jumped off the bed and spun around until his eyes came upon, the somber face of a man standing on the small table that laid a couple of inches from Sam's bed. The man was dressed as though he was a hunter or an assassin from the nineteenth century. He was well shaven and possessed golden tanned skin that the crappy lights in the room favored and painted it in a flattering way. His glittering hazel eyes and his wavy raven shoulder-length locks cast a solemn yet light aura around the man, but Sam Winchester wasn't about to take any chances. But before he could do anything, he first noticed that the standing male's features were similar to that of a certain celebrity and of course the first thing out of Sam's mouth was...

"Hugh Jackman?"

That response brought a sour look on the man's face and his hazel eyes turned into light brown slits as he glared at Sam, who instantly took a step back and eyed the weapons bag that blessedly sat inches away from him.

The bathroom door slammed against the wall and announced Dean's timely arrival. Both the mystery man's and Sam's eyes focused on the half-naked form of Dean, who was lightly humming a Metallica song while drying his hair. When Dean was finished, his eyes flashed unto Sam before he saw the expression on his brother's face and trailed his eyes unto the stranger. Dean stared at the man with a blank expression before he voiced: "Sammy, what the hell is Hugh Jackman doing here?"

Both Sam and the man glared at Dean. Before Sam could correct his older brother on his name, the stranger beat him to punch for corrections. "First of all, I am NOT Hugh Jackman. I do not look like him, I don't sound like him AND I am better-looking and way older than he is."

"Okay, Hugh Jackman-lookalike, if you're not him, then you better explain yourself, before my sister and I pump rock-salt in your chest."

Sam once again shot daggers at Dean, while the man rolled his eyes and jumped off the table, showing that he about Dean's height.

"Alright, fine," the man swept a stray hair behind his ear. He held out his hands as a grand introduction. "I am Gabriel, the Messenger."

Sam incredulously stared him while Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion or distrust. The man groaned and closed his eyes. He hung his head, keeping his gaze unto the ceiling. "Please, do not tell me you do not know who I am or what I was talking about."

"Oh no, I heard you. I just don't believe you." Dean said and padded across the room and sat on Sam's bed. He crossed his arms and glowered at the angel. "There's no such thing as frickin' angels or God for that matter."

Gabriel sighed and threw his head back, his eyes to the ceiling. He muttered, "Metatron is not well-known and he gets to deal with Loki, Bartleby and the Scions, and I told the Virgin Mary herself about the birth of Jesus, and I get the atheist and his brother. I love ironies. Look," the angel began and focused his attention on the Winchester brothers. "you don't have believe in God, but I got a job to do and He wants you two to do a mission for Him."

"Once again, I repeat: I. Don't. Believe. In. God."

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "Just hear the man, er, angel, out."

Dean sighed once Sam pulled his infamous puppy eyes. "Alright—_but_—you have to prove to us you're an angel or else someone's ass is going to get fried tonight."

Gabriel sighed and slowly closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and held out his arms before he groaned and arched his back. Right before Sam and Dean's eyes, two white mounds peeked over Gabriel's shoulders before they sprouted into two large white mountains of feathers and made their ascent towards the ceiling. Gabriel's wings then unfolded themselves and spread before the incredulous and shocked eyes of the Winchesters.

"Believe me now?" Gabriel asked with a hint of smugness; clearly satisfied with the blatant shock of the doubting mortals.

Dean rolled his eyes and spun his finger in the motion of a wheel to gesture to Gabriel to continue his order. "Well, anyway, God wants the two of you to head to Illinois. And before any of you two ask, NOT to go to Chicago, but to McHenry, Illinois."

Sam and Dean glanced at one another, each holding an expression of confusion. Sam then snapped his attention unto Gabriel and was about to open his mouth, but the angel beat him to the punch.

"You have to go there to meet the last two Scions—"

Dean quickly interjected. "Umm, WHO?"

Gabriel flashed an angry gaze at Dean before he said, "The last descendents of Jesus Christ. As I was saying..."

Sam's eyes widened. "So Jesus did have a kid? So that book was right..."

"NO, it wasn't! Can you stop interrupting me?! My goodness, if only I could drink. As I was saying, you have to meet the last two Scions and go on a quest across the country. Not only will you be traveling with those two, but you will travel with others that are blessed with talents...of some sort."

"And what is this 'quest' the 'Most High' wants us to do?" Dean asked with a hard-edge of sarcasm.

"To go to directed destinations in order to warn the parents or the future Thirteen Apostles that they will and are being pursued by demons at the order of the Devil to kill them. AND--you have to do this before December 28th and go to New Jersey."

A moment of silence instantly settled into the room. A feel of awkwardness and tension was also added to the mixture, and for a while no words were spoken until the silence was violently broken by the burst of Dean and Sam's loud laughter.

Gabriel clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, while he glanced around, attempting to find amusement in order to erase the bubbling ball of annoyance stirring within him while he waited for the young men's mirth do die down. When the laughter morphed into chuckles and hiccups, Gabriel spoke again. "Look, you can find this ridiculous all you want, but we need you two on this mission."

"Oh yeah?" Dean hiccupped before he cleared his voice, his eyes still glittering with amusement. "And why is that?"

The angel's voice was lowered to a somber whisper. "Because you two are the only ones that have real skill to deal with demons. Well, there was your father...but you know..."

Dean's eyes suddenly were intrigued by the patterns of the dirty forest green carpet floor, while Sam looked at Gabriel except with a softer look in his eyes. Sam whispered, "Yeah, we know. And if we choose to do this mission, then explain why are demons after the...next Thirteen Apostles?"

Gabriel answered: "If you choose to accept the mission, then head to McHenry, Illinois and you shall receive the answers to your questions." Gabriel clapped his hands and wiped them against one another. "Alright, that was it. Now, remember, if you two decide to not be so pigheaded, then head to Illinois and someone will be there to greet you and give you the lowdown. And also, be on the lookout for these two dipshits while you're there. They're the first you're going to meet and be on the journey."

Gabriel cleared his throat and glanced at Sam and Dean, who appeared to be lost in their own thoughts. The man from above, sighed, unsure how to deal with human emotions. So, he opted not to say a goodbye to the two mourning brothers and closed his eyes. His whole form became encompassed by a dim white aura that slowly grew brighter and brighter until a huge wash of white brightened and claimed the room. Once, everything was no longer white and too bright, Gabriel the Messenger was gone and the two young men lied side by side on the floor, peacefully sleeping, unaware that they were locked in an intimate embrace.

End of Chapter One

Author's Note:

(1) For the record, Our Lady of Lourdes is a Catholic Church outside of Center City and is only a couple of minutes away from me, and from what I know, there has been no scandals circulating around the church. But then again, I am not a frequent church member of the congregation.

So, anyways, what do you think? Should I continue or should I not continue? Pleas review! That will make my day.


	2. The Bitch Who Is Fate

Hey folks, I'm back with a new chapter. And this time, the famous and beloved 'hetero life-mates' shall make a grand entrance. And all will be explained. Also for the record in the last chapter, the small town Dean and Sam were visiting, Pulkville, Indiana, does not exist. I merely made the name up because I never went to Indiana.

After all that was said, go ahead and read!

Chapter Two: The Bitch Who Is Fate

December 2, 2006. 10:00 a.m.

Route 50:

Dean tapped his thumbs in an irregular rhythm against the steering wheel of the Impala. For the first time in his life, his ears were not absorbing the familiar blast and blaring of Metallica that shook and vibrated throughout the interior with the words and beat of _Enter Sandman _(1). He was still trying to figure out on how the hell did he ended up driving his baby on Route 50 (2), in wee hours of the morning, on his way to Illinois, while _Sammy_, the little bitch, ended up resting comfortably in his passenger seat, not disturbed by the cruel claws of horrid visions and nightmares.

The first image that burned its way to the front of Dean's mind was the embarrassing situation of waking up to finding himself on top of Sam. His legs were tightly wrapped around his baby brother's and their hips were practically glued together. Of course, Dean tried to ignore what happened and push it in the back of his mind and replace it with packing up and hopefully heading to a state that was _not _in the Midwest. Preferably, he was aching to go to a state from a belt of warm climate states with a forecast of kick-ass partying on the side. However, Sam, the ever missing character from that pussy and bitchy show _Party of Five_, wanted to hug, cry, talk, have coffee, watch Lifetime, and braid his hair, blah, blah, blah. This meant more emo crap for Dean. The eldest Winchester boy was surprised that Sam did not sprout boobs then or years ago.

So, Sam, typically and reluctantly backed down... for a while. He did what his girly self does best: pulled the ever-used, the ever-famous, and the ever-annoying, silent treatment. He was constantly shooting his brother beckoning gazes with sheer plea glimmering in his hazel eyes, imploring him to spill all the secrets he buried and guarded. Determined gazes, that worked and reeled Dean in after an awkward hour and a half of the brothers attempted and failed in avoiding one another. Spending the morning brushing shoulders against one another as they scrambled to get in the shower quickly and gathered everything they could to make the checkout, and Alice Cooper making up for background noise for twenty-five minutes as they drove ten miles (3) to find the nearest restaurant or diner. It was when they were sitting in a shabby and rundown diner, eating disgusting looking breakfast sandwiches that had enough grease to give to everyone in a small country, Dean caved in and groaned out to Sam what was wrong and what got his panties in a twist.

Sam finally voiced his opinion and said maybe they should look into that gig--no, _mission_--Gabriel wanted them to do. Thankfully, he decided to drop the morning incident. The reasons that he added to his arsenal in order to fight tooth and nail with Dean's stubbornness and lack of faith, was 1: Change of scenery. 2: More purpose in their lives. And 3: this was God they were talking, for goodness' sakes; at least they could get on his good side and possibly have a shot of heaven, instead of having first-class seats in the seventh circle of Hell, no waiting lines at all.

Three minutes later, their voices became louder, even though they were still speaking in low hushed tones, and the customers and workers of the diner began to cast them curious glances and then they came to a common ground in order to solve this dilemma of opposing opinions; they decided on Dean's superstitious nature, which forced them to rely on whatever song is played on whatever radio station they turn to in the Impala. If it was, quote, 'real man music' said Dean, like Metallica, Rollingstones, Aerosmith, etc., they'll forget this whole religious crap fast and head down to Florida. BUT, if say, if one of the 'sissy shit' songs that Sam usually listens to, like the music of today, was playing, then the Winchester Brothers will pack up and head to Illinois in the name of the Lord. So, they asked for the check, left a tip and raced to the car. Dean, of course managed to beat Sam and his hand was the first to handle the radio and changed to a random station...

And that was how they ended up on Route 50, on their way to Illinois. All because the radio station and God decided to play in Sam's favor and the first words to emit from the radio was: _'This love has taken a toll on me..._' the beginning of one of the hit songs of fucking Maroon 5. Even though Sam was not an avid fan of Maroon 5, he was damn near thankful that that annoying song decided to play in his defense and make Dean suffer.

However, then Fate decide to switch fences, as they search aimlessly and continuously for McHenry, glancing at the changes of scenery fly by them for hours until they remembered that McHenry was a couple of miles from Chicago and then they were greeted by a green sign that declared: 'Welcome to McHenry'.

Of course, events began to turn for the worse (in Sam's case) as they began to hunt around the small town, for any signs of possible contact with powers from above, and so far they only saw nothing but typical characteristics of a small town. So, the two decided to stop at the local motel and check in. As usual, the person at the lobby, a young man that looked like a throwback for the Addams Family, threw them a suspicious and disgusted gaze. Still, Dean and Sam ignored the man's looks and requested for a room with two queens. The goth freak stared at them balefully before turning and grabbing the keys and slammed them against the desk and opened his lips and was about to say something until Dean stood straighter, stepped closer to the desk and fixed an intense and burning green gaze at the man. The guy stared at Dean for a couple of moments and stepped back, still staring at them. Dean glared at the man before he snatched the keys and he and Sam left the lobby to go back to the Impala to put their stuff before heading out to a nearby diner.

-----------------

December 2, 2006. 11:15 p.m.

McHenry, Illinois, Chubby Checkers (4) Diner:

Dean secured them a booth while Sam went to the diner's entrance and picked up a newspaper from a newspaper stand to see if there were any possible cases of supernatural for them to tackle. When Sam returned, he was not surprised to see the waitress, this time a petite woman with skin of pale bronze and jet-black wavy locks smiling coyly at Dean's sharp grin and his heavy Kansas drawl. Sam rolled his eyes as walked closer to the table and shot the waitress a friendly smile before taking a seat and made his order. The waitress nodded as he wrote down the orders and winked at Dean before walking off.

"Y'know..." Dean began, his eyes latched on the waitress' form. "I think we found our...divine sign..."

Sam snorted. "Really? The powers above decided to send a messenger that'll deliver our mission from her skirt? Really Dean, is there ever a time you don't think with your downstairs brain?"

"Nope, never was and never will, Sam, that's just how your brother operates." said a very familiar and amused voice that chilled Dean's and Sam's bones. They slowly turned their heads to see standing before them was John Winchester, grinning down at them.

"Dad?" Dean uncharacteristically croaked.

John's lips pull into an acknowledging and sad smile. "Yeah, son, it's me."

Dean closed his eyes, and blinked multiple times, trying hard not to cry in front of the very man who lectured him that emotions were useless and unnecessary in a hunter's life. While Sam stared at him in confusion and disbelief, unwilling to believe his deceased father was sitting in front of them.

"Dean, look at me." His father softly commanded and once it was said, Dean knew he could not disobey an order. Especially one that was soft-spoken and coming from a man who used to spew words that were harsh and straight to the point.

Dean slowly turned around and when his green eyes were presented the sight of his father, he almost cried and gasped. This was not the same man he knew for twenty-seven years of his life. Hard lines had no part on John Winchester's face, his hair gleamed black as a starless night, and his eyes now were green with mischief and happiness instead of sorrow. His whole persona emitted light and gaiety; it was as if John was never touched by reality and the grief did not strike his heart.

Dean had to take a moment to breathe before his breath went away as his amazement, surprise, grief and guilt swept over him. Words were stuck and frozen in his throat and he started to contemplate whether or not the words he wanted to say were the right ones to say.

John rolled his eyes and said, "Careful, Dean. Too much brooding might make your head explode. I thought we left the emo-crap to Sammy?"

John Winchester was using his sarcastic words to veil the uneasiness, the sadness and happiness that were all morphed together at the sight of his sons.

Thankfully, Dean understood his father's method as he was guilty and familiar of using it and decided to play that game as well. His lips curled into a soft smile. "Naw, I still the most machoiest man on the planet."

John rolled his eyes. "And you're still the biggest dolt on the planet, too."

Dean rolled his eyes in a characteristically girlish manner and ran a hand through his short dirty blond locks. "Whatever, I'm still prettier than Sammy and that always count."

Sam smiled, thankful that the awkward tension had disappeared. "And I'm wondering how did you get in here without anyone noticing you were here."

John grinned. "Magic, Sammy, magic." He turned to the waitress from earlier and whistled for her to come over to the table. "A cold bottle of Budweiser and a tall empty glass."

The waitress stared at oldest Winchester possibly trying to figure out how did he appear all of a sudden before nodding and walking away.

Dean crossed his arms and leaned back. "So, I'm guessing you're the sign the angel was talking about. I didn't think you'd get into Heaven, old man."

John rolled his eyes. "Apparently the Lord will welcome all her children that will repent from their sins."

Both Sam and Dean let out short bursts of laughter. Silence then reached the Winchester table for while until the waitress was back and placed the cold bottle of booze and a tall glass on the table. The waitress' green eyes flickered unto Dean, lit with mischief and desire and gave him a tiny smile before walking off.

"So..." Sam started, watching in curiosity and fascination as his father opened the Budweiser and chugged it for a bit before actually spitting it out in the tall glass. "How's Mom?"

John cracked a smirk. "Your mother is fine. She's big time friends with Capote, Kurt Cobain and some tiny girl named Lisa Left-Hook, Left-Eye…something."

Dean's face scrunched up and he asked, "Who the hell is Capote?"

Sam smirked at his brother. "He's a famous author and wrote _In Cold Blood_, and inspired Dill from _To Kill A Mockingbird_, you witless cretin."

Dean sighed and glanced at his nails with feigned nonchalance. "Aah, I'm sorry, Sammy, but what you just told me was boring and sound like it meant nothing."

John softly smiled at both his sons and chuckled. He sent a quick look to Sam. "Sammy, I feel for you and very surprised and thankful you did not sent Dean to St. Peter's Gate early."

An innocent smile curled Sam's lips and he said, in an imitation of a seven-year old "Thank you Daddy."

The three hunters (or in this case, two hunters, one retiree) shared a big laugh before sounds of cooking, the cook cursing and the waitress' shouting ate up the silence in the diner. John then returned to his drink-spit routine for a bit before he decided to speak.

"So…" the eldest Winchester started, his green eyes flickering back and forth unto his sons. "Any questions?

Sam was the first to come out of his reflection of the awkwardness of the situation. His first question was: "What's the real deal about these...Scions, this mission and who are these people we're supposed to meet?"

"More importantly," Dean started, his green eyes fastened on his father take another sip of the Budweiser, savoring it before spitting it back into the glass. "Why the hell are you doing _that_?"

John rolled his eyes. "Because thanks to two of your eleven companions, angels aren't allowed to drink."

"Wait, _eleven_ people?" Disbelief coated Dean's voice as he repeated two of his father's words.

"Yes Dean, you're going cross-country with eleven people, _including_ the Scions. Don't like it, tough shit."

Sam nodded, whether in acceptance of his new mission or as a sign of acknowledgement of his father's words, while Dean, on the other hand, sighed and ran his hand over his face.

Dean started again. "Okay, eleven fricking' people, how we're gonna travel with that many people, I have no idea. So," he placed his hands on the table and linked them together. "what's your new way of drinking got to do with two of our…'companions'?"

"Okay, once upon a time there was a God that used to get easily pissed off. So, anytime he was pissed, he had the Angel of Death named Loki..."

"Wait, the Norse God of trickery is an angel?" Sam asked with an eyebrow raised and skepticism easy to trace on his face and voice.

"No…his name just happens to be Loki. You'll find that a lot in the angel business, y'know having deity names. Anyway, Loki used to bear God's wrath. You know the slaughter of first-borns as one of the Ten Plagues?" John received two nods from his sons. John sighed in relief, and said to the heavens: "Oh, thank God, I did do something right. Back to subject, Loki was responsible for that and many other things until he quit, thanks to his friend Bartelby, a Grigori--"

"Grigori?" the Brothers Winchester repeated at the same time.

"A Watcher, anyway, Bartelby was feeling sorry for humans--"

"Aww, how sweet." Dean commented. He quickly shut his mouth as his father sent him a swift look.

John Winchester sighed again and continued. "As was I saying, Bartelby, was feeling sorry for humankind. So, when Loki invited him for a post-slaughter drink, after the slaughter of the first born, they get into a heavy discussion about whether or not slaying in the name of God is wrong—keep in mind, they were _very_ wasted at the time—so after much debating, Bartelby convinces Loki to quit the Angel of Death business. So, Loki approaches God, tells him he quits, throws down his sword AND unfortunately, for the rest of us, flips God off."

Sam nodded in understanding and concluded: "And so God then concluded that angels couldn't drink."

John threw his younger son a 'There you go' gesture and slammed his hand on the table. "Hence the drinking and spitting of the drink."

Dean tsked and quipped. "Bummers."

"So, Dad..." Sam started, chewing on his bottom lip, unsure of how to phrase his question. "This mission, or holy mission we have to do...what's the deal?"

"Okay, word in Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven is the youngest last Scion's powers are blossoming..."

"'Blossoming'?" Dean snorted. "Dad, since when you used descriptive language?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed through his nose, before reaching for his beer and taking another sip and spitting the Devil's drink into the glass. "As I was saying, the youngest and last Scion is becoming more powerful as she grows, and prophecy foretells that she will vanquish the Enemy of Man, a.k.a. Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, the Old Horn..."

"Okay, okay, okay, we get it Dad." Sam said. He twirled his finger into a gesture that told John to continue.

"So, anyway, 'course when Lucifer heard about it, he wasn't exactly ready to leap for joy. And what tipped the cake for him were the rumors of the budding powers of the next Thirteen Apostles…"

"Wait, _Thirteen_ Apostles?" Sam asked with narrowed and curious green eyes.

"Yeah, they were Thirteen Apostles, not twelve, but due to racism and Church conspiracy, you only hear of Twelve Apostles."

A curious expression mapped itself on Dean's face. "What's racism and conspiracy got to do—"

"Never mind, the guy will explain the details when you meet him." John sighed and combed his hand through his hair. "Anyway, feeling threatened, Lucifer sent three of his top demons, to kill not only the youngest Scion and her mother, but to also kill the next Thirteen Apostles and their parents, so it's up to you two—" John pointed to his sons, who both were wearing expressions that spoke of disbelief and intrigue."—to meet the two Scions and protect them when and while you go on your quest to—"

"Yeah, yeah, we heard. 'To warn the parents and/or Thirteen Apostles about the bounty on their heads.'' Dean dismissed the explanation with a wave of his hand. "Now, the Archangel guy..."

"Gabriel?" The eldest and deceased Winchester grounded out, getting very annoyed with his oldest son.

"That's him. Yeah, he mentioned about meeting two 'dipshits'. And he mentioned about besides we'll be traveling with other people, we have to finish this quest _before_ December 28th. Why?"

"Because December 28th is the Feast Day of the Innocents, the children that were slaughtered under the order of King Herod when he heard about a new king being born. The feast day is also the day God placed a seal and declared that no demon is not allowed to kill a child, or else they shall be blanked out of existence and the child will be declared as a martyr and can be reincarnated."

"And the Almighty is so sure that a demon will follow his rules?" Dean skeptically asked.

John sent a peeved look Dean's way. "Do you think a demon will want to be blanked out of existence?"

"Good point."

"Anyway," John Winchester continued. "on December 28th you have to be in New Jersey, in the church the Last Scion was conceived—"

"Wait," Dean held a hand up and snickered. "so the chick's mother had sex in a church? That's kinda kinky and doesn't exactly sound like a holy-like conception for someone that's supposed to be the Last Scion..."

Sam and John slapped a hand to their faces. John muttered under his breath. "_Now_ I see what Gabriel was talkin' about. I wish I could drink..." he slid his hand off and sent another glare at Dean. "Dean, I am seconds away from taping your mouth shut with magical tape that can never come off unless _I_ want it to, you hear?"

Sam blinked in surprise and looked at his brother. "Dean, you better cut it out. Dad's serious and I'm the only one that ever got that threat."

Dean ignored his little brother and narrowed his hazel eyes at his father. "You wouldn't dare..."

John's orbs became slits as he stared at his older son as his hand dug into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a roll of electric tape that flashed blue as the sun ray's hit it. The eldest Winchester threatened by shaking the tape in his hand. "You wanna try me?"

Dean leaned back and held both of his hands up in order to defend himself. "No, go on ahead."

John smirked before he placed the tape back into his pocket. He then lifted up his hand and glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. "Shit, I wasted a lot of time..."

Sam's brown eyebrow shot up. "'Wasted a lot of time?' Dad, are you on some kind of schedule or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." John reached into his jacket's pocket and produced a folded up and raggedy article that appeared to be cut out from a newspaper. He placed the article on the table and quickly answered to Dean and Sam's questioning gazes: "New case God wants you to do. It will lead you to at least two of your eleven companions. It's obvious it's a werewolf, so it's easy. Six people were found dead in a near a park last month on a night of a full moon. The month before that ten people were killed on a full moon, same place. There's gonna be a full moon tonight, so take care of it and you will get to meet your two dipshits and be on your way to saving the world." John made a face. "I can't believe I actually said that."

Dean softly smiled, his eyes extremely bright. "Yeah, we can't believe it, too."

John returned Dean's smile and glanced at him and Sam. "Yeah, well, take care boys. I'll see you around."

Sam then remembered something that Gabriel failed to mention. "Wait, Dad, the last two Scions, what are their names?"

A thoughtful look passed over John's face before he answered, "Bethany and Alexandra Sloane. Take care, boys."

Instead of disappearing from the diner in sudden white flash, John's form grew paler by second until it completely faded into the air.

Sam's puffed up as he inhaled a great amount of air and exhaled loudly while Dean blinked his eyes continuously, trying to be rid of the mounting tears in his eyes.

A short moment of silence washed over the Winchesters' table before Sam spoke in a soft voice, "So…we doing it?"

Dean let out a breath and closed his eyes as he answered, "Yeah, we're doing it."

-------------------

December 2, 2006. 6:45 p.m.

McHenry, Illinois, Mad Hatter's Playhouse (not a real club):

"Yo baby, wuz up bitch?" A dirty leer and a dirty look were sent towards a round and tight butt of a woman who happened to walk past the 'gracious' gentleman. The woman's brown cheeks reddened and threw a glare at the smiling man with her brown eyes and continued to walk away towards the back of the line of people.

The man with a black beanie sucked his teeth and glared at the woman and shrugged nonchalantly, "Whatever, I ain't got time for hos anyway…"

The man then felt an elbow jab him in right arm and he looked at his short and hefty 'life-mate' with an inquisitive look. The brunet nodded his head to two black women who were laughing and talking with one another. Jay revealed his slightly dirty teeth in another leer and licking his lips at the women.

"Yo, hos, wuz up? Once you go white, you've been licked right." Jay then proceeded to do a rather vulgar gesture involving his tongue and then cast the two then disgusted women with a wink. Jay's friend, Silent Bob rolled his eyes and proceeded to fish for a cigarette.

The women rolled their eyes and one muttered "White boys," and continued on their way to the back of the line of people awaiting to gain entrance to the second-most popular club for African-Americans.

Silent Bob looked at the women one last time and shrugged his shoulders and went back to smoking his cigarette.

Jay, on the other hand, chose to be tenacious as a bulldog (or rather a horny bulldog) and called after the women, "Aw, come on! I can make you both holla for a dolla!"

It was then when every person in the line heard the rhyming and derogatory pick-up line and turned their heads to stare at Jay with wonder and disbelief, while Silent Bob rolled his eyes at his friend and went on to smoke off more days off of his life.

"This fuckin' place and night blows. Fuck Wikipedia (5)!" Jay muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at everyone and anyone who happened to walk past him and Silent Bob.

Fortunately and unfortunately for both Jay and Silent Bob's case, the night was going to become more interesting.

------------------

"Shoot it Sam! Shoot it! Shit!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, all the while panting and running with all the strength he could muster from his body, struggling to keep hold of his gun.

Sam was in the lead, his green eyes locked on the speeding, large and gray form of the werewolf in front on him. The werewolf was doing a good job in trying to throw the two demon hunters off by darting between alleyways, scattering trashcans behind him.

The older Winchester brother reloaded another silver bullet into his gun and took another shot at the werewolf. A litany of curses poured out of his mouth when the supernatural beast managed to dodge the bullet and have it instead hit a trashcan.

'Fuck this is not my night!' Dean silently fumed as he upped his pace, his blooding boiling, adrenaline pumping throughout his body and his fingers tightening around the gun.

Before any of the two young men could have another chance of ridding the world of another evil, the werewolf, having tired of skirting through alleyways, leaped high in the air and sunk his claws into the wall and began to climb. Then Fate decided to do a one hundred and eighty degree turn for the Winchester brothers and the werewolf scaled the building really fast and made it over the ledge before Sam or Dean could fire at it again.

Both men had their fastened unto the ledge, unable to believe their case of bad luck and their father's words earlier.

"Shit, what we're gonna do now?" Sam asked, his hazel eyes still plastered on the ledge.

Before Dean could retort an answer or a cocky comment, a loud and long howl pierced the cold December sky before a screamed 'What the fuck!' followed after.

Dean and Sam quickly took off and entered a nearby alley, following the scream…not knowing Fate was with all along and was setting them on their destined paths…

---------------

"And stay the fuck out!" a burly and tall man shouted, wiping his hands together before sending a quick glare at the two men who were struggling to get on back on their feet and slamming the strip club's door shut.

"Fucker." Jay muttered as he helped his friend up.

After spending a couple of minutes in the Mad Hatter's Club and having absolutely no luck with the women of the club, Jay and Silent Bob proceeded to walk out and intended to stand outside the establishment and continue to make a profit on making another percent of Americans addicted to drugs (A/N/: No offense to anyone who smokes pot or anything. Not my view) until they spotted a strip club called Titties and Bitties that was blessedly across the street.

The twosome were having a great time up until Jay had the _great_ idea to take a credit card (one he stole, mind you) and swipe it down the stripper's ("Black Cherry", the announcer called her) ass crack. Thus, why Jay and Silent Bob were standing outside of the strip club now, their egos hurt and their balls feeling as though they were about to fall off. Well, Jay's actually. Unfortunately for Jay, Silent Bob believed in shit like treating women right.

Speaking of said foul-mouthed pothead, he was now feeling like the whole world was against him. For now on, he's never watching John Hughes' movies again or reading and believing shit from Wikipedia. Ever. Again.

"C'mon tubby, let's go." Jay ordered.

Silent Bob blew one last smoke before flicking the cigarette away and began to walk away with his companion. The pot-smoking duo managed to walk two blocks and then they hear trashcans rumbling and turn around to see nothing but scattered debris on the pavement behind them. They cast cautious and worried looks at one another. Besides being big John Hughes' fans, Jay and Silent Bob did see their share of horror films and knew anytime there was a loud and ominous noise exploding in the background, immediately that meant either some twisted and usually masked killer was going to pop out and slice their heads off or some beastie eager for human flesh was going to jump out and tear them apart, bit-by-bit.

The latter possibility proved to be true when the pot wonder twins heard a low growl coming from high above. They gazed up to find some hideous large canine with blue-gray fur, bulging neon yellow eyes, large drops of saliva hanging like icicles around his large mouth, staring down at the them with manic bloodlust, hanging down from a fire escape like it was some freaky bat or something.

Jay screamed, "What the fuck!"

It was then the ugly dog then snarled, raining the saliva down on the bewildered men. When they were drenched in the phlegm and like typical comic relief in horror films, the two life-mates turned to one another and stared for a couple of seconds before they bolted. Jay was screaming his head, cursing Illinois, John Hughes, Wikipedia, strippers, rap music and other things he believed led to this moment, which could be his last. Silent Bob on his other hand was seeing his life flash before his eyes and he have to say it was pretty sad.

Of course, in ode to all horror films out there that share this scene, Silent Bob tripped on some nonexistent object. Jay looked back and saw his dear friend struggling to get up and noticed the ugly-looking _Cujo_ reject was inching closer to him. At first, Jay was about to shrug his shoulders and leave the silent friend to his fate until memories of time spent together swam into his mind. Times of threesomes, smoking weed in bathrooms, that beautiful night with Orlando Bloom ('Oh wait, was a dream' Jay reminded himself), loitering outside stories, arguing about which _Star Wars_ was better: _Phantom Menace_ or _Attack of the Clones_. Jay then made up his mind and knew he had to save his friend despite the choice sounding gay (in his mind) and ending his life.

Jay rushed to his fallen friend and helped him up and the two noticed the dog leap towards them. Both Jay and Silent Bob held out unto each other closed their eyes, readying themselves to feel sharp teeth or claws sink into their flesh until they heard a resounding gunshot. They reopened their eyes to see the hideous animal lying on the ground, a small bullet hole embedded in the left side of its back. Jay kicked it onto its sides and he and his friend saw that the bullet not only soared through the enormous beast's back but also its heart as well.

"We got him!" a deep and masculine voice proclaimed. A tint of a southern or Mid-western state was hinted in it.

Jay and Silent Bob turned around to see two guys walking up to them. The young man on the left one was one of towering height, lean build hazel eyes, and had a mole planted on his pointy nose. The other man was a few inches shorter than the other one and was possibly older, and wore his dark blond hair in military-styled haircut, his shapely lips set in a satisfied smirk. His black leather jacket, blue shirt and jeans accentuated his muscular form and along with his gait, emanated a vibe of cockiness and toughness.

Jay and Silent Bob were frozen to their spot staring at the pair approaching the body. The shorter male shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches. The slid the box opened and pulled one skinny match. The man ran it against the box and threw the tiny flame unto the werewolf's corpse and watched enormous and burning golden flames consume the cadaver.

The tall man with the expressive hazel orbs trailed to the dumbfounded stoners. Concern washed over his features and he walked up to the two and made the mistake to tap Jay on the shoulder. "Hey man, you okay?"

Being resurrected to reality by Sam's gentle touch and realizing that a cremation of some odd creature was happening in front of him, Jay shoved Sam's hand off of him. "Get the fuck off me! What the fuck was that? What the fuck are you two doing? Matter of fact, who the hell are you two?"

Dean and Sam shot each other an incredulous look, shocked of someone just had first encounter with a werewolf and failed to recognize it and realize the possibilities of being a mauled victim if they did not step in. Silent Bob rolled his eyes at his partner's rudeness and sent an apologetic look towards the Brothers Winchesters, which they acknowledged.

"Hey! The two gay Ghostbusters! I'm talking to you! What the fuck was that!" Jay screamed as he threw his hat down and indicated towards the melting beast's body.

Already decided that he automatically did not like the fucking stoner (a detail Dean immediately took note of), Dean stalked up to Jay, his face fixed in a furious and annoyed expression he growled: "Dean and Sam fucking Winchester! Brothers! Saviors of your ungrateful ass! We're hunters of the supernatural! As in we hunt shit that goes bump in the night to save assholes like you!"

Once Dean was finished his tirade, Jay and Silent Bob stood there as though someone told them that circus seals were obliterated and marijuana was illegal and anyone caught with it would be located by a GPS system and shot on sight. Sam stood still waiting for his brother to finish ripping the stoner's head off.

Dean took a deep breath (most probably trying to restrain from taking a lunge at the man) and said, "Have a nice evening." He made a gesture towards Sam and they both left the stunned men, still frozen to their spot, and the dying flames on the werewolf's body.

When the Winchesters were at least a couple of feet away from them, Jay woke up from his shocked state. He looked at Silent Bob, and said: "Now how 'bout this shit? First we couldn't any pussies then we get kicked out of a tittie bar then get attacked by some shit that came straight outta _Van Helsing_ and get saved by a pair of fags? Fuck Illinois!"

For a while, Dean and Sam ignored the punk's rant until a lightbulb went off in Sam's head. He looked back at the drug addicts (or dealers, Sam couldn't decide which) and realized that there were _two_ of them.

"_And also, be on the lookout for these two dipshits while you're there. They're the first you're going to meet and be on the journey." _

Sam stopped and grabbed a hold of Dean's jacket. His older brother threw Sam a quizzical look and Sam simply: "Dean."

The quizzical expression on Dean's face stayed for a couple of moments until it melted into one of confusion which then transformed into realization and turned into shock. He mouthed: "Sam. No. _No_.

Sam chose to be persistent. "Yes."

The youngest Winchester turned around and sauntered to the two companions and asked: "Hey, do any of you know a Bethany Sloane?"

Dean closed his green eyes and groaned before he stomped his way to his brother and the two jackasses (well one actually). God, after all this, he and his sibling better be declared as saints.

End of Chapter Two

Author's Note:

(1) Don't really know who sung the song, _Enter Sandman_. If anyone knows please tell me and forgive me for not knowing the song.

(2) Was told by a website that this is the route you take to Illinois. Not positive if source is correct or not.

(3) Don't really know my miles. Sorry.

(4) Not a real diner. The name is actually the name of my friend's pet lizard.

(5) You'll find out the next chapter why Jay and Silent Bob are in Illinois. Guess why and you get a cookie!

Sorry for the long delay. Blame it on writer's block. Also please forgive me if I messed up John, Jay and Silent Bob's characters. Happy Holidays.


End file.
